


how many tickles does it take to make minho laugh?

by Anonymous



Series: unrelated nsfw fics [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Breeding, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Tentacles, aftercare's not detailed but its there, implied OT8, jisung cameos at the end lol rip, lots of cum im sorry, no actual pregnancy just kink, safeword checkins, set in canon but with tentacles, the bulk of their negotiation is offscreen but some of it is there, they switch?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: tentacles lol(“That’s…”“Weird.”“Hot.”Minho snorts. “What?”“It is,” Seungmin insists. “I’m not Jisung, I don’t have a thing for hentai, but it’s still… it’s still.”“Mhm?”)
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: unrelated nsfw fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198034
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	how many tickles does it take to make minho laugh?

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in an hour bc i thought too hard abt 2min and went. yeah why not
> 
> so enjoy i guess
> 
> cw mind the tags

Seungmin opens the door to the dorm, then immediately closes it again. “Uh.” He just saw that, right? That was a thing he just saw?

He opens the door.

Minho glances up at him from where he’s slouched on the couch, playing a game on his phone. It’s just him. There’s nothing weird around him. No… Seungmin doesn’t even want to say it. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He steps inside, slowly. Lets the door slam shut.

“Something on my face?”

 _I’m going insane,_ Seungmin thinks, with more than a little dread. _I’m the last sane member of this team and I’m going insane._ “No,” he says instead. “Sorry.” And he skulks back to his room, glancing back every few steps. Minho remains engrossed in his game, not saying a word.

From what Seungmin can tell, no one else is home. No one else he could ask about—well. It doesn’t matter. He’s tired, he was seeing things. 

It doesn’t matter.

-

They’re no strangers to hookups. All eight of them find relief in each other when they can—they live together, it’s easy to be discrete, and they all understand each other’s needs. Of course, they all have preferences. If you asked any of the other six, they’d say Seungmin’s go-to is Hyunjin, and Minho’s go-to is Chan.

They’d be wrong. But none of them know Seungmin and Minho have even hooked up with each other at all. Much less as often as they do.

“My turn.”

“You went last time.”

Minho growls at him—honest to God _growls—_ and Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Stop being immature.”

“I’ll go find Jisung,” Minho threatens, but they both know it’s an empty promise. As much as Minho loves seeing Jisung eagerly agree to anything he wants, he’s usually not in that mood. Usually, he wants pushback. And Seungmin’s the only one who’ll give it to him. Chan resists, yeah, but not out of any desire to be a brat—he usually just really wants to finish a song, and when Minho finally tears him away he goes entirely willing. Jeongin only goes to Minho when he already knows the night will end in his own submission—if he wanted anything else he would find someone else. Other than them, no one else fights back.

No one puts their all in a fight, no one does it for anything other than performative reasons.

Except Seungmin.

It makes sense, given how they are. Even with their “divorce” healing, they’ve always been sort of cat-and-dog. Bickering. Enemies but not quite. They love each other, yes, as much as they love the other six, but their love manifests in different ways. They poke at each other. All in good fun, but from the outside, mildly antagonistic. It’s not a surprise that even the rest of SKZ don’t understand, that sometimes they get worried if an argument gets too loud, that they think the two of them couldn’t stand being close enough to fuck without devolving into a yelling match—and they don’t mind, not really. It’s their business. Discretion is the whole point, isn’t it? 

“Let’s just stop talking and—”

“And hit an impasse halfway through?” Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “I bottomed last time.”

“No, there was the—in the practice room—”

“That doesn’t _count!”_

“Oh, so we’re only counting—”

“Shut _up,”_ Seungmin groans, falling back onto the bed with a thump. This turns out to be a mistake because Minho’s expression shifts and Seungmin has a split second to react before he’s pouncing, slamming Seungmin’s arms back onto the mattress and knocking the air out of him. When he looks up Minho’s sitting on his stomach, legs trapping Seungmin’s, grinning. Cat that caught the canary. It’s cute. “Really?”

“I changed my mind,” Minho says. “I’ll bottom. But like this.” 

Plenty of opportunities to flip them and take control. “Fine by me.”

He loves seeing Minho like this, loves watching him lose hold of his tightly wound control, fucking up into him until he can’t support himself anymore, all that hard-earned muscle rendered useless and shaking—but this time, something’s different. Something contorts in the air behind him, and Minho doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in pleasure, and it goes away soon enough, but Seungmin’s _sure_ he saw something. He just doesn’t know what. There’s something weird going on… and he doesn’t know if he wants to find out. 

-

The next time it happens, they’re in the dorms. The other members are there as well, but none of them in the kitchen—and then the air behind Minho contorts again, and Seungmin frowns at it, because he’s absolutely certain he’s not seeing things at this point. 

“Hyung,” he says, slowly. “Is there… do you have…?”

Minho blinks at him, expression blank, but it’s more amused-blank than blank-blank. 

“...Nevermind.” There’s no good way to ask without sounding crazy. He glances behind Minho again and Minho makes a noise like _aha!_

“You saw them.”

Seungmin splutters. “You just—“ Did he just _admit_ to it?

“Clearly something’s bothering you. I thought you might’ve, that day you came home early, but I wasn’t sure.” When he doesn't get a response, he elaborates, "the tentacles."

Seungmin gapes at him. “You actually have _tentacles?”_ he blurts out. “How does that even work? Are you… you’re not human.”

“No, I am, I was just…” Minho frowns, searching for the words. “Born with it? They stay tucked away in a pocket dimension, most of the time.”

“And you don’t know how?”

“Would _you_ tell anyone your kid has tentacles? My parents didn’t want me to be experimented on, they just homeschooled me until they figured I had enough control. I just have to let them out sometimes. That’s what you walked in on, I thought I had more time to let them relax, but.” He shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“That’s…” 

“Weird.”

“Hot.”

Minho snorts. “What?”

“It is,” Seungmin insists. “I’m not Jisung, I don’t have a thing for hentai, but it’s still… it’s still.”

“Mhm?”

“I—” Seungmin says. He feels his face heat. 

“What,” Minho says defensively. 

“Do they… can you…” He doesn’t know how to say it. “Remember that thing we talked about—”

“You want me to use them?” He’s not surprised Minho knows what he means—they’ve been talking about it for weeks, now, looking for the right time. 

Seungmin’s so red he’s starting to get light headed. “Maybe?”

“I can do that,” Minho says slowly. “I have full control over them but—” 

“Please,” Seungmin blurts. He can imagine it. They playfight during sex often enough, had planned to get more rough soon, but this—he's guaranteed to lose no matter how hard he fights back, and he's almost embarrassed to admit how much that turns him on."

Minho giggles a little, ruffles his hair. “You really want it, huh?” Seungmin hums. “You want them holding you up? Keeping you still? They’re strong, you know. No matter how much you struggle, you won’t be able to break free.” Seungmin moans, turns his head into Minho’s shoulder, embarrassed. Minho’s hand comes down to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers, imagining the touch turning harsh in an instant, throwing him down, keeping him spread open— 

“They’d fuck you so good, baby.” 

Seungmin whines, and Minho’s free hand slips under his waistband, trails along his cock. 

“I’d love to see it—you, taking multiple tentacles at once, pretty and helpless… They can breed you, too. I know how much you like that. Stuff you so full of their-- _my_ cum that you look pregnant.” He’s jerking him off in earnest now, and Seungmin can’t quite keep his noises to himself. “And then I’d fuck you, too. You’d be lying in a pool of their slime and cum at that point, it’d be leaking out of you, and you’d be so warm and open for me—too weak to fight back.” 

Seungmin bites Minho’s shoulder when he cums, twitching, moaning so loud someone must have heard him by now. 

He takes a moment to breathe. Minho, with no regard to Seungmin’s blood pressure, removes his hand from his shorts and licks the cum off his fingers. “I guess this is happening.”

Seungmin groans. “I guess so.” 

“Usual safeword, but if you can’t speak you can bite one and I’ll feel it. I’ll leave one in your hand, too, squeeze it once for okay, twice and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” Seungmin says. He gestures at Minho’s lap. “Do you—?”

“I’m good,” Minho says, half smiling. “No worries.” 

“Okay,” Seungmin repeats. That over with, he hides his face back in Minho’s shoulder. “We said next Monday?”

“Yeah. Everyone will be out for a good five hours, we’ll have time.”

Seungmin nods. Minho giggles again and pats his head. “Aw, is Seungminnie embarrassed?”

Seungmin hits him lightly, but Minho just keeps giggling. “Shut _up.”_

-

On Monday, Seungmin heads home early from voice lessons. His teacher had some appointments he couldn’t miss, and Seungmin had been looking forward to this—his lesson was cut in half, basically, and he had free time after, so now he has so much and he’s absolutely going to waste it away with a long shower and some sleep. 

The shower’s nice, and he steps back out expecting to go straight to bed. But he feels… watched, for some reason. He heads to the kitchen to grab a snack, picks up some crackers, and when he turns around he jumps so hard he almost loses his grip on his towel. “Minho!”

Minho tilts his head, expression blank, as if he didn’t appear out of fucking nowhere right behind him. “Seungminnie.”

“What are you—I thought you had dance—” 

“Minor injury,” Minho waves off. “It’ll be fine in a day or so, but I’m not supposed to put much stress on it.”

“Oh,” Seungmin says, clutching his towel tighter to his body. The way Minho’s looking at him… he’s unnerved. “Um, I’m gonna go back to—”

“Let me see you,” Minho says, and Seungmin almost laughs until Minho doesn’t join him. 

“What? What’s gotten into you, hyung—”

Minho frowns. He reaches for the towel and Seungmin steps back, blocks his hand. 

“What the fuck?”

Minho doesn’t say anymore, grabs his wrists in one hand and turns to slam him into the refrigerator. It rocks, a little, testament to Minho’s strength. The towel falls, and he tries to cover himself but Minho still has his hands and crossing his legs doesn’t do much. “What are you doing??”

Minho gives him a little half smile, grip tightening. Seungmin doesn’t like the way his eyes rake up and down, he tries to squirm away but it doesn’t do much. “Mm. Admiring.”

“This is—this is really fucking weird, Minho, can I please go put on clothes—”

“No.”

The words die in Seungmin’s throat. “What?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “What is there not to get about ‘no’?”

“What do you mean what is there—why you’re saying it? Are you… are you feeling okay?” 

“Color?”

“Green.”

“I’m fine,” Minho says, pressing even closer. Seungmin’s heart races. “Though… I’d be better if I had my cock inside a tight, warm hole, do you think you could help with that?”

His stomach drops. “You’re not—” 

“I am.” Minho reaches a hand around, gropes Seungmin’s ass, spreads him so his hole’s exposed. The bolt of terror he feels is fucking thrilling, the arousal—he knows where this is going, knows Minho will overpower him. “Shit, I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad for so long now—”

“No, no—” Seungmin pushes, hard, and somehow dislodges Minho’s grip. He doesn’t stop to wonder at it, just turns to run but barely gets two steps away before something wraps around his waist, something… it’s not an arm. And it’s strong, it yanks him to a halt. He looks down and. “What the fuck is this?”

“Be nice, Minnie,” Minho coos, and more… appendages wrap around his limbs, lifting him, immobilizing him. When Seungmin looks to Minho for help, he’s stunned speechless to find him standing, casual, haloed by tentacles extending from his back. They're beautiful, smooth and dark orange, glistening with what must be secretion of some kind. And there’s so many. Seungmin’s heart sinks. Unless he manages to get through to Minho verbally, there’s no way he’s getting out of this, and Minho is… clearly not human. Maybe words won’t get through to him at all. 

“Please,” He says, because he’s not above begging. “Minho please, you don’t want to hurt me—”

“Hurt you?” Minho laughs. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll make you feel good, Seungminnie. I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” A tendril finds its way to his mouth, shoves its way inside. His eyelids flutter and he chokes, unprepared. It thrusts and he gurgles. Another tentacle settles in his hand, just resting. 

“Okay?”

He squeezes. 

The tentacle in his mouth is oozing slime, which he’s forced to swallow periodically if he doesn’t want to choke on it. It’s strangely sweet. Another comes up behind him and he jolts, tensing, trying to move away but the tentacles don’t let him. 

“Don’t be difficult,” Minho snaps, coming up to him and flicking a nipple. He twitches. He curses Minho out, too, but it’s muffled by the thing in his mouth, down his throat. Any struggle he attempts, the tentacles just subdue him. It’s helpless.

The one by his ass makes another attempt, and this time he can’t move, can’t do anything to stop it. It rubs against his hole a few times, both teasing and to get it wet, then dips in. Just the tip. Teasing, again. He groans into the muscle in his mouth, squirming more—but even he doesn’t know if he’s trying to get away or take it deeper.

It pushes in, anyway, exploratory, almost curious. Minho moans, eyes half lidded with pleasure. He must be able to feel what his tentacles feel. Seungmin can’t even imagine—would it be like having multiple dicks, or maybe just sensitive fingers? 

The tentacle in his ass abandons its curiosity in favor of thrusting, fast and hard, fucking up into him with no regard for his pleasure. Jolting noises from his throat, fucking him so good... His cock is drooling by now, he knows. The tentacles (and Minho) don't care, just taking, taking. It stops, suddenly, and Seungmin feels hopeful for a moment before something hot and liquid floods into him, much more than a human penis would produce, so much that he thinks he can taste it in the back of his throat. He cries out, body shaking, feeling so, so full he's drunk on it.

The tentacle withdraws, and it leaks out of him, dripping onto the floor. Minho laughs, breathless, and pulls his cheeks apart to lick a stripe over his hole. “There’s more where that came from.”

What? No. Not more…?

He squeezes once when Minho seems to be hesitating, and it spurs him on to bring more tentacles to Seungmin’s hole. One about the same size as the other enters him easily, but then another presses against him and he whines a protest. Minho pats his thigh. “You’ll be fine, crybaby.”

Seungmin huffs. He squeezes once.

"Look at you," Minho breathes. "Letting me breed you so well." The thought gets to him, carrying Minho's babies. Letting the tentacles stuff him full, and if Minho was just human it'd be impossible, but maybe the tentacles don't need a womb. Maybe it'll actually take, and Seungmin will wake up with their kids in his belly. He likes the thought a little too much.

The second tentacle plunges in. They fuck him in alternating strokes, and it feels so fucking good he almost cums, but Minho notices and a thinner tentril wraps around his base. Seungmin whines loudly through his nose and thrashes, as much as he can with his restraints, but Minho ignores him. The tendrils in his ass fill him, too, and then they’re replaced with more.

And more.

And more.

He barely registers Minho giggling, Minho fisting his own cock, locked on the sight of Seungmin getting destroyed by his tentacles, too lost in the sensation. Too caught up in how they’re using him, like he’s an object for them to masturbate with, like this isn’t sex at all, it’s them using a toy during their playtime.

And there’s something so lewd about it, too, that this is happening in the kitchen, where the others work and eat and mess around—no doubt Minho will threaten him somehow to keep him quiet, so none of them will ever know what happened here. And Seungmin will be reminded, every time he walks in, that Minho did this to him. 

He fucking loves it. 

One last load of cum(?) and they withdraw, mostly. They set him down gently on the floor, in a big puddle of the thing’s secretion and his own cum and spit, and wait. Hovering, like they think he'll make a break for it. He doesn’t. He can’t. He just lays there, facedown in the nasty fluid on the floor, takes shuddering breaths and tries not to cry. 

Minho settles over him, cock sliding into his hole without difficulty. “Color?”

“Green.”

He goes slow, mercifully. The tentacles withdraw, too, sated, until it’s just Seungmin and Minho on the floor of the kitchen, Minho rocking into him gently as Seungmin whimpers into the tile. “Good boy,” Minho murmurs, threading their fingers together. “You were so good for me. So, so good. Took me so well.” 

Seungmin shudders. 

It doesn’t take long for Minho to cum, adding to the mess already inside him. He rolls Seungmin over and takes him into his mouth, and it’s near instant, Seungmin almost bowing over with the sensation. Minho swallows, which he usually never does.

And he kisses him, then, soft and nothing like how they’ve been with each other before, but it feels right. Neither of them fight for it, they just bask in each other for a bit. “Come on,” Minho says, eventually. “I’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

“With your tentacles?” Seungmin asks sleepily. 

Minho snorts. “The others will be back any minute, I don’t think—” He pretends to look away when Seungmin pouts, but gives in all the same. “Fine! Fine.”

They take their time in the bath, and Minho trails kisses along his skin, not out of any interest in going further, but just as a form of reverence. At least, that’s what Seungmin thinks, and Seungmin’s good at reading what Minho wants. 

It’s nice. 

Minho kisses the tears off his cheeks, too, when he finally gets to that point. He’s good at comfort, wraps Seungmin in hugs and warm words, feeds him water and snacks, until they’re both drifting off into dreamland. 

Later, they’re both rudely awakened by shrieking, and a voice that sounds like Jisung’s saying hysterically, “HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU HAVE TO FUCK TO GET THAT MUCH FUCKING CUM?”

Minho groans. “I forgot to clean the floor.”

Seungmin bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, hyung.”

“How the fuck do I explain this?”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Hn. The things I do for you, Kim Seungmin.”

“I love you too, Lee Minho.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/chnbnsvng)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/chnbnsvng)


End file.
